


“Can we please forget that ever happened?”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [23]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15149585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of shorts of possible first kisses between these two. Got a few ideas. Feel free to submit prompts for anything you’d like to see in the comments below or over on Tumblr at lulacat3.





	“Can we please forget that ever happened?”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrikeMyHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeMyHeart/gifts).



> A gift for StrikeMyHeart. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> “Have you done an awkward kiss? I mean where they're somehow caught up in a physically awkward space/situation and it leads to a kiss (which maybe is so awkward, they have to have a second first kiss to make up for it).”

Strike clumped down the stairs from his flat to his office. The door was unlocked, so Robin must be in already, but there was no sign of her. Her coffee was on her desk, though, and her coat hung up. He frowned, puzzled, and then heard a bang and a muffled curse.

He skirted round her desk and drew in a sharp breath at the glorious view of Robin’s bottom in slim fitting trousers sticking out from under the desk. He paused for a moment, admiring, and then hurriedly dragged his eyes away.

“Er... what are you doing?” he asked loudly.

“Monitor’s blank,” she said, a little muffled. “Just working out which cable attaches it to the computer.”

“We might have a spare,” he said, looking around. “Got a box of random cables somewhere.” It was the other side of Robin’s desk. She’d shoved her chair across towards the window, so he went back round via the sofa side to hunt through the boxes. “What does it look like?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Lots of pins in a little rectangle, and a screw thing either side. Blue.” She said, still indistinct. There was another bump. “Ow, fuck.”

Strike suppressed a grin. Robin didn’t often swear so vehemently. He dug through the box. “Found one,” he called.

“I’ve tightened it up,” she said, loudly. “Can you see anything on the screen?”

He moved round to lean over her chair and peer at the screen. It was dark. “Nope.”

Grumbling noises came from under the desk. “Let’s try the one you’ve found,” she said, backing out and sitting up, pink-faced.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling fondly down at her as she sat on the floor. She grinned. “It was till I turned my computer on,” she said. “Your coffee’s on your desk.”

“Thanks,” he said, handing her the cable. She compared the end of it to the one in her hand. “Looks the same,” she said. “Let’s try,” and she disappeared under the desk again. Knowing he shouldn’t, but temporarily without anything else to do, Strike admired her backside again for a few moments.

“Are you plugging the other end in?” she called, and he gave a guilty start. He couldn’t see what she had done with the end, but moved around to unplug the end of the cable that was still in the monitor. The screw heads were annoyingly small for his big fingers and he fumbled, feeling like swearing himself.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“I haven’t got the other end,” Strike said. There was more shuffling and bumping and muttering, and Robin’s hand appeared over the edge of the desk, waving the end of a cable at him.

“No, it needs to come up through the hole in the desk, like the other one did,” Strike said. He heard an exaggerated sigh and her hand disappeared again. Presently the end of the cable he needed appeared through the cable hole in the desk. He took it and pulled.

“Doesn’t reach,” he said.

“What do you mean it doesn’t reach?” she demanded. “The last one reached.”

Strike shrugged and tugged on the cable a little. “Oh, hang on,” she called, still a little muffled. “It’s tangled.”

There followed a long spell of quiet punctuated by the occasional bump and swear word, and then a bang as though she had thumped the side of the desk in frustration. “For goodness’ SAKE,” she cried, and backed out and sat up again, scarlet now. “It’s all a spaghetti mess and I can’t even breathe properly under there.”

Strike was trying hard not to laugh. “Want me to try?”

She glared at his amusement, but he could see from the twinkle in her eye that she saw the funny side too. She looked quite delightful, pink and slightly dishevelled and cross and amused. Not for the first time, his heart (or was it his libido) lurched at the sight of her. Get a grip, he told himself.

“You’ll never fit under there,” she said, smiling at the thought.

“I set it up, didn’t I?” Strike said, choosing to forget how difficult it had in fact been to fit his large frame under the desk.

“Okay, well you can at least help,” she said. “I don’t know why it’s so tangled. Let me unplug a few things.” She pulled out a lower drawer and grabbed some coloured stickers. “I’ll need to label things so I put them back right.”

“It’s like you have a small stationery shop in these drawers,” Strike marvelled, and she grinned up at him.

“Okay, you take half and I’ll take half,” she said, and handed him half the stickers and disappeared back under the desk. “Come over here,” she called.

Strike moved around to her side of the desk and waited. After a short pause she passed him the end of a cable. “Red,” she said, and he obediently stuck a red sticker on it while Robin stuck one on the back of the computer.

“This next one’s a bit short, and I’ve gone with green,” she said. The cable was so short, he had to lower himself to the floor too, shoving her chair over a bit more and sitting with his back to the desk now to stick the sticker on, inwardly cursing the constriction on his knee that made it so hard for him to kneel. He turned himself sideways a little, wedged uncomfortably between the desk and the filing cabinet.

“Oh,” she sounded surprised. “Think this is the last one. So few cables for such a tangle.” She backed out, pulling the cable with her, not realising he was behind her and practically backing onto his lap.

“Er, Robin...!” Wedged as he was, Strike couldn’t get out of the way. He put out a hand to stop her but all that was in reach was her approaching bottom, which he couldn’t bring himself to put his hand on. He froze for a moment in panic, not sure what to do, and she backed right into him, squeaked at the feel of him behind her, banged her head hard on the underside of the desk and fell back into his lap.

“Ow,” she cried, holding her head and genuinely not noticing in a moment of pain that she was on top of him, her legs bunched up awkwardly. His hands went automatically to steady her, acutely aware that the curvaceous bottom that he had been so admiring was now planted firmly in his lap. She was still pink and dishevelled and slightly hot from her exertions. She smelled of floral shower gel and musky heat. Desire swept through him, and he was suddenly terrified that his body was going to betray him and embarrass the hell out of them both.

Robin removed her hands from her head, shocked eyes meeting his, her mouth forming a little O of surprise and a blush creeping up her neck. Strike’s hands were on her waist and she could have sworn for a moment that there was heat in his gaze. A pulse of pleasure ran through her at the way he was looking at her and she made a small anxious sound and started trying to struggle to stand, but her legs seemed to be tangled together. She was obliged to put her hands on his shoulders to try to lever herself up. Her gaze met his for a second, awkward. She was suddenly very aware of his strong thighs beneath her, his smoky, spicy scent, his hands on her waist, the heat between them, and in a wild moment of impulse she leaned forward to kiss him.

Strike, taken by surprise, had been expecting her to lever herself up and was intending to get up himself as fast as he could. He had leaned forward with that in mind, and their teeth clashed together awkwardly as their mouths met. Robin pulled back at once, scarlet, mortified. “Fuck, sorry, sorry...” she cried softly. In any other situation, he would have pulled her back in to continue the kiss, but the combination of the heat in her gaze and her wriggling in his lap as she tried to stand had sent arousal pulsing through him and he was afraid of losing all control of his body’s response to her. She scrambled clear of him finally and backed away, horrified at her own behaviour. She gave a squeak of embarrassment and almost ran out of the office. Strike heard the door of the tiny bathroom slam.

Fuck. He took a shuddering breath and hauled himself to his feet. Now what? But he hadn’t imagined what he’d seen in her eyes. It might have been the most awkward moment in history, but it had still been a moment. The curves of her hips had felt soft under his hands, her bottom firm and delicious on his lap. And she had wanted to kiss him. All he could think about now was kissing her.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Robin came barrelling back into the office, slightly damp from splashing water on her face. She knew if she stayed away any longer it would become too difficult to face him again. She hurried over to him, and in her haste took one step too far and stopped short, too close again.

“God, Cormoran, I’m so sorry, so sorry,” she said. “I’m an idiot, can we please forget that ever happened?”

Strike gazed down at her, flustered and damp and even more dishevelled and blushing, and didn’t think he had ever seen her look so sexy.

“How about we just try again without the awkwardness?” he said softly, and he leaned down and kissed her, his hands seeking her hips again. She gasped with surprise against his mouth, but after a moment she responded eagerly, embarrassment swept away in surging desire, her hands creeping around his back. Strike found his hands sliding down to her bottom as they kissed, and suddenly he was grinning against her mouth as he pulled her closer.

“What?” she murmured against him, giggling a little.

“I’m blaming this whole incident on your bottom,” he said, and kissed her again, insistent, his tongue seeking hers. Robin wanted to ask what he meant, but was soon too carried away in the moment to care.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I struggled to come up with the scenario for this, but I quite like it now it’s done. These two do awkward so well <3


End file.
